


Snap Out Of It

by firoola



Category: One Direction - Band
Genre: AU Modern Setting, F/M, Harry is also basically a dick, I'm new, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Liam has everything together, Louis is basically a giant dick, M/M, Minor Abuse References, Minor References to Childhood Trauma, Niall is the sun obvs, Record store au, References to Drugs, Self Confidence Issues, Slow Burn, Swearing, Zayn is a sad mouse, do i even need to put that one in?, if i left anything out just shout
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:58:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2093070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firoola/pseuds/firoola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Record Store AU. Zayn and Louis own a (failing) music shop together. Niall walks in one day and shakes things up. Liam and Harry are also around. Kind of (loosely)(like really loosely) based on the book/movie High Fidelity (as in Louis is basically Jack Black's character with none of the redeeming qualities).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

The bell over the door tinkles. Zayn looks up briefly, but can't see who it is over the enormous stack of boxes obscuring his view. It's mostly the same few people they get in here anyway, and they know to shout if they need anything. He concentrates once again on the shelf in front of him, where he had been trying to decide if Franz Ferdinand’s self-titled first album belonged in ‘Synth Indie’ or ‘Post-Rock Soul’. He hesitates a few more seconds before deciding on the first one. It likely won’t matter in the long run – Louis will almost definitely rearrange the whole place when he gets back after lunch, all the while explaining, loudly and in great detail, how Zayn had been so mistaken. Dick.

 

Zayn wanders over behind the desk. Louis has left his playlist running over the shop’s speakers, but Louis either doesn't know or doesn't care (and Zayn is pretty sure he knows which it is) about creating a nice ambience for people to browse to, meaning they have been listening to scream-punk for the last twenty minutes. Not quite the time or place. He scrolls down the list, landing on Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Snap Out Of It’.

 

_‘What’s been happening in your world?_

_What have you been up to?_

_I heard that you fell in love, or near enough._

_I gotta tell you the truth …’_

 

‘Aw, sick. I love this one.’

 

Zayn turns slowly, eyebrows raising. This (unsought, inarticulate, admittedly heart-felt) opinion seemed to have come from the skinny blonde guy standing in ‘Folk Growth’. He nods easily at Zayn, and continues.

 

‘I know a lot of people prefer their earlier, shouty stuff, but they were never gonna improve on that first record, were they? Made sense to move on like. And this album, jesus, it’s basically like poetry or something, isn’t it? Love it man.’ He has an accent, Zayn wants to say Irish-Midlands, which puts strange emphasis on parts of words and slurred past others. ‘Poetry’ comes out more like ‘POH-chree’. He seems very sure of himself. Zayn isn't sure if he likes that or not. He doesn't reply, just presses his lips together in a not-quite-smile and returns to his filing.

 

Louis wanders in about ten minutes later, and immediately flinches.

 

‘What is this faux-homely, banjo laden, posh-arsey shit doing playing in my shop?’ Louis never speaks when he could shout, and never uses one real adjective when eight invented ones would do.

 

‘I dunno, mate, it’s your playlist,’ Zayn replies, from where he stands by ‘Belgian Nu-Rave’. ‘Don’t blame me.’

 

‘It is not my playlist, how could you even suggest that? I don’t even know the name of these smarmy bastards, what is it, Bedford and Brothers or Sandford and Mums or whatever the fuck. This is clearly your doing, Malik.’

 

‘I like it.’ This is the blonde guy chiming in again, having moved over to look at the entire wall they had covered in ads for upcoming gigs. ‘S’cool.’

 

Louis wheels around. ‘Oh you do you? And who the fuck are you to tell me what you like in my fucking shop?’

 

‘Jesus, relax bud, I only said I liked it. Nice customer relations. And I’m Niall, thanks for asking.’

 

‘Well, _bud_ , A of all, I don’t give a shit about you and your hurt feelings, and B of all, you have to actually buy something to be a customer, so either shut up or get the fuck out. I don’t need you mainstream bullshit opinions in here.’ Louis turns away, smirking slightly, obviously feeling he’s got the upper hand. At least, until Niall laughs openly and turns towards Zayn.

 

‘How in the name of all that is good do you put up with this pretentious bastard every day? I’d have fuckin’ strangled him by now if this is what he’s like the whole time.’ He faced Louis again. ‘Mainstream? Really? That’s the worst insult you could think of, that I might enjoy popular, well-produced music with a bit of money behind it? So fuckin’ what if I do? I also listen to Thin Lizzy and Mick Flannery and Sinead O’Connor and fuckin’ Jedward, who gives a fuck? Does that make me less important than you, it does? Does that make my money worth less, or sully the good name of your clearly incredibly successful record store, which, jesus, what decade are we living in again? Don’t blame me just because your high-faluting fuckin’ notions led you to set up a business in a failing sector of the market which is blatantly bleeding money, all helped along by your truly stellar public persona. Get off your high fuckin’ horse man.’

 

He hasn’t stopped smiling through this whole tirade, nor has he raised his voice. Now he comes up to the desk where Zayn had been watching with a slack jaw, and hands over his disks and a magazine. ‘How much’ll that be, then?’

 

Zayn shakes his head and slightly clumsily types in his price. ‘That’s, uh, eighteen quid thirty. Um. Please.’

 

Niall hands over a note, and then takes out a piece of paper and a pen. ‘There you go, man, keep the change. And listen, here’s my number, if you’re ever stuck looking for an extra set of hands in here. It seems like it could be pretty decent, if you could only balance out Bullshit Boy over there. Gimme a ring, yeah? See ye later boys.’ He flashes one more grin at Zayn, tips his imaginary cap to Louis, and strolls out.

 

They stare at each other for several silent minutes. Louis looks slightly shell-shocked. ‘I’m – I’m going for coffee,’ he says eventually. He doesn't ask if Zayn wants one, just walks out and slams the door behind him, leaving Zayn alone with just the music in the background for company.

 

_‘Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes_

_(Turn and face the strain)_

_Ch-ch-changes …’_


	2. Two

There’s ringing. There’s ringing, somewhere out there, and _Jesus,_ if it doesn’t stop right now this instant he probably will die. He throws a hand out hopefully, thinking the ringing might be within arm’s reach, or – even more hopefully – that there might be someone else in the bed who can get it for him. Nope. Shit.

He slowly – _hiissss,_ sloooowly - turns his head towards the direction of this horrendous noise. It takes a few seconds for the bed to stop tilting, and then more than a few tries until he finally bangs the right patch of screen and the damn phone falls mercifully silent. Or it does until, just as his eyes are drifting shut again, two long, loud _beeeeeeps_ inform him he has a message. He considers ignoring it, but now as he nears full consciousness he realises just how dry his mouth is and how much he really, really needs the toilet. It takes much longer than it should for a basically fully grown man, but finally, with some grunting, he sits heavily back onto the bed and stares at the screen.

_Louis Tomlinson; Missed Call. Voicemail; One New Message._

He hits call, and falls back onto the pillow with a thump as it rings. This is clearly a mistake, so when Louis answers – ‘Hello?’ – he receives a series of moans and drawn-out curses rather than an actual greeting.

‘Ahhhh, oh God, shitshitshit.’

‘Uh, hello? Zayn? You alright?’

‘No I’m not fucking alright, Christ, how could you ask such a thing after you calling me at the ridiculous hour of – one thirty. Oh. Is that pm, it is?’

Louis laughs loudly. ‘Yes mate, unfortunately so. I left it as long as I could, and then I thought, if he _has_ choked in a pool of his own vomit, probably best that I discover him before the neighbour does.’

‘I couldn’t have answered the phone if I had choked in a pool of my own vomit, that was a bit stupid.’

‘You didn’t answer the phone anyway, bud.’

‘That – is fair enough. If there is an ambulance on the way, I wouldn’t call it off just yet.’

‘That bad?’

‘Aw man, you were there, you saw. The drinks I can remember alone would’ve been enough to batter several lesser men. I am going to end Harry.’

‘Well to be fair mate, you can’t blame Harry, he didn’t order 6 rounds of Skittle Bombs.’

‘Christ alive, the fuck is a Skittle Bomb?’

‘Shot of Cointreau in Redbull. Zayn? You just made a weird noise.’

‘That was me gagging. You have to help me, I literally can’t move and I need to shower and – ugh ok, not eat, but water or something. Louis. Please. Can you come over?’

‘Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice, unless I want to be responsible for the demise of the owner of the ‘Dreamiest Eyes of the Class of 2012’. I am not helping you shower though. And you have to come into the shop after, I got stuff I need to do.’

‘For fuck’s sake that was five fucking years ago, _would_ you please leave it go? Are you coming or not?’

‘I’m on my way Z.’

‘Wanker. Thanks.’

 

&&&

 

Louis may not be the greatest Tender Loving Carer in the world, but he does succeed in making Zayn feel slightly more like a human being by that afternoon. Of course, his help is accompanied by a running monologue about how _great_ he is, how he’s the _best friend_ a guy could have, how Zayn will owe him _so much_ after this, which is obviously only piling on to all the other ways Zayn _already_ owes him. Zayn puts up with it, partly because any resistance could quickly result in Louis flouncing out of the apartment and leaving Zayn helpless and alone, and partly because, well. He’s right. He _does_ owe him an awful lot.

The shop is mercifully quiet when Zayn eventually makes it down. After all the shit Louis had given him about the huge volumes of business they were surely missing out on for the sake of coming to Zayn’s rescue, Zayn had been expecting a queue halfway down the street, but as it turned out, Louis had just been a bit dramatic (shocking). His solitude means he can blare all the music that Louis normally has banned. After much consideration (and perhaps a little snooze, whatever, shut up), he decides on Kanye and Jay-Z.

_‘Human beings in a mob._

_What’s a mob to a king?_

_What’s a king to a god?_

_What’s a god to a non-believer?’_

It’s Sunday, meaning their big delivery of this week’s magazines and gig posters will be coming in some time that night. This is really the only reason Zayn needs to be there – despite what Louis might say, the shop could close for a month unexpectedly and no one would really notice.

He’s just deciding between a third cup of coffee, or a nap on the couch in the back office, when his phone rings.

‘Zayn! Zaynie Zaynie, Zaaaaayn, how are you mate?’

‘Harry? Alright man what’s up? It’s – where are you? Why is it so loud? Are those- are those sirens?’

‘Hm? Oh yes, yeah, I think so, that’s why I’m calling actually, I’m in a spot of bother. Remember last night I was talking to a few old buddies of mine, and they invited me along to a sort of after party and you didn’t want to go because they thought looked ‘sketchy as shit’?’

Zayn sighs. ‘Yes.’

‘Right well, turns out you were right and I need you to come get me quite soon, like immediately. Police raids of these sort of establishments tend to include body searches and peeing in cups and all that kind of unpleasantness, and now wouldn’t be the best time for me to be – I don’t want to say _caught,_ it sounds so criminal, but well. You know how probation officers can be.’

‘Oh fuck. Ok, I suppose I’m on my way then, do you even know where you are? And _shit_ I need to find someone to look after the shop, shit shit shit, Louis’ not here and there’s no one el-‘ Zayn cuts himself off suddenly as he remembers. He fishes quickly through his pockets until – _yes_ – he finds the little slip of paper he needs.

‘Alright, Harry? Harry, are you listening? I’m going to make a quick phone call and then I’m coming to get you. Can you find out the address of the place you’re at and text it to me? Harry? Can you do that?’

‘Of course I can Zayn, my old pal, of course I can. See you in a bit, you’re a star for this.’ And he hung up.

Zayn quickly taps in the number on the paper, and then sits drumming his fingers on the desk impatiently, waiting for an answer.

‘Hullo?’

‘Um, hi, is that Niall?’

‘Yup, speaking, who’s this?’

‘Uh, this is Zayn, from the record shop the other day? You gave me your number and said to call if I was ever stuck?’

‘Oh yeah, hi! I take it you’re stuck then?’

‘Just a bit, yeah, I’m on my own down here and I’ve got to go collect a friend, he’s in a bit of trouble, nothing too serious, but I really have to go. Is there any chance you could come down and sort of hold the fort for, like, an hour? Max? I’d owe you big time man.’

‘No bother, happy to help. Gimme about ten minutes and I’ll be there, ok?’

True to his word, nine and a half minutes later Niall walks through the door looking – well. Zayn realises now is not really the moment to be thinking about this, but Niall looks kind of stunning. It must be cold outside, because he’s pale with slightly flushed cheeks and his hair is all over the place, very different to the heavily styled quiff he’d been sporting the first time they met. He’s bundled up in coat and hat and scarf, and Zayn has an overwhelming desire to hand him a cup of tea and sit him in front of a roaring fire. He mentally shakes himself.

‘Uh, hey. Thanks for this, it’s kind of an emergency.’

‘Hey! It’s not a problem, I was literally just sitting at home watching some shitty documentary about – a hospital I think? Or a prison? I’m actually not sure, I wasn’t really paying attention, it looked depressing as shit, I definitely never want to get sick or, you know, kill anyone if that’s where I could end up. Not that I’m going to kill anyone anyway, obviously, but like, now I have yet another reason to – ‘

‘So listen –‘ Zayn feels he has to interrupt here in spite of his own growing smile, or he might not ever get away, ‘I shouldn’t be too long, like I said, an hour tops. There’s nothing really to it, there won’t be any customers at this hour on a Sunday, the only reason I wanted you to come down really was that I’m expecting a delivery and you’re gonna need to sign for it? Hope that’s ok, you have my number now anyway so if there’s a problem let me know.’

‘Ah yeah, that all sounds grand, I’m sure I’ll manage away! As long as I’m in control of the tunes, and that other prick doesn’t come in and berate me about, I dunno, my views on the Kardashians or whatever the fuck, it’ll be fine.’ Niall grins at him, and Zayn can’t help his own smirk. They stand looking at each other for another beat, until Niall says, ‘Don’t you have to go?’

‘Right, right, shit, ok I’m going. See you in a bit, and you know, thanks again.’ Zayn walks out, giving an awkward little salute over his shoulder as he goes. He hears the sound system kick into life as he sits on his motorbike and straps on his helmet.

_‘He’s a poor boy,_

_Empty as a pocket._

_Empty as a pocket with nothing to lose,_

_Sing sha-na-na …’_


	3. Three

After that, Niall just keeps coming back. The first day, to be fair, was to drop back the keys and inquire after Harry (Zayn just got there before the police, they were able to slip out the back), but each excuse for the rest of the week is worse than the last.

‘I couldn’t remember the name of Gorillaz second album.’  
‘That coffee you were drinking yesterday smelled really good, I wanted to get the name on the label.’  
‘I thought Wednesdays are probably quiet, I wouldn’t like you to have no customers all day.’  
‘My room-mate thinks I have a job, so I need somewhere to go every day.’

This last one brings Zayn up short.

‘Wait, what? What do you mean he thinks you have a job?’

‘Oh yeah, well like, I had to tell him something cos he was getting all worried with me just sitting around the flat most of the time. And like, I tried to get a job, but I came straight here from college in Ireland with a shitty Liberal Arts degree from Limerick – which, if you ever get the chance to go to Limerick, fucking don’t, what a backwards hole of a place – so no one really wanted to hire me. I’m sort of living off my savings at the minute. Or well, I was, until last week. Now I suppose I’m-I’m not really living off anything actually.’ He frowns to himself. Zayn thinks he hadn’t fully realised his situation until this moment.

That evening, Zayn starts working on Louis. He makes a giant stir fry, with carrots but no mushrooms, and uses the white noodles instead of the whole-wheat ones that Louis claims taste like ‘unseasoned cardboard’. He waits until Louis cracks open his third beer before carefully broaching the subject.

‘Listen, Lou, I’ve been thinking – Lou, are you listening mate?’

Louis slowly turns his head away from the TV, although his eyes are still focussed on it.

‘Louis!’

His head snaps around. ‘Hm? Yes, yes, I’m listening, what?’

‘Um, so I was thinking, like, about the shop? Like maybe we could, um, use some extra help. Maybe another person or summat. Just cos like, it’s annoying that we both have to be there every day, and like what if there’s an emergency or whatever and we’d have to close the shop, right, it just seems stupid. Um, what do you think?’

Louis’ eyes narrow. ‘I … suppose. But I don’t want just some random coming in, I just have the place how I like it now and I don’t want anyone to fuck it up. Did you have anyone in particular in mind?’

Zayn clears his throat. ‘Well yeah, actually. You know-you know that blond guy that’s been kind of hanging around the last while? Niall?’ Louis looks blank. Zayn sighs. ‘You shouted at him about Mumford and Sons that one time?’

Louis springs off the seat. ‘No! Absolutely not, no fucking way! That little shit will ruin everything I’ve spent so long building, I cannot believe you’d even think-‘

‘But he’s not that bad! You just got off on the wrong foot, I think, I’ve been chatting to him a bit and he’s cool, I swear! And he really needs a job, and he’s actually like, friendly and stuff to customers. And he only just moved to London, and I don’t think he knows very many people, and just. I think he could be really good.’

‘You seem awfully invested in this.’ Louis peers at Zayn for an uncomfortable twenty seconds. ‘You don’t fancy him do you?’

‘Jesus, Lou, no, I don’t make every decision with my dick. Unlike some people. I just think he’d be good, that’s all. If you don’t want to then whatever, fine, it was just a thought.’

Zayn starts clearing up after dinner in silence. Louis sits back down and pretends to go back to watching TV, even though the football is over and some mini-series on ants has come on. He seems restless in his seat, and Zayn can see him glancing over out of the corner of his eye. It’s not until Zayn has done all the washing up, and comes back into the living room bearing two bowls of ice cream with chocolate sauce and sprinkles (but no nuts) that Louis flops back into his seat and sighs dramatically.

‘Fine.’

‘Fine what?’

‘Fine, you can keep him. That bloody Labrador boy that you’re so worried about, he can work in the shop. But only on a trial basis. And I’m giving him minimum wage, and if he so much as looks at my playlist the wrong way, he is out on his fucking ear. Okay? Will you stop looking at me like that now? And stop cleaning everything, it’s fucking weird.’

Zayn smiles into his bowl. ‘Cool. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Thanks Lou.’

&&&

The following week, Niall and Zayn are filing out front while Louis does something Busy and Important in the office. They work in companionable silence. Zayn looks over at Niall occasionally and smiles when he sees him nodding to the beat in the background. They both reach for the same CD one time and their hands bump. Niall turns red and apologises so much that Zayn isn’t sure if he wants it to happen ten more times or never. He decides to save him.

‘So you just moved here?’

Niall latches onto the topic gratefully. ‘Yeah! Came over straight out of college with my literally worse than useless degree, I just kind of wanted an adventure, you know? Thought London would fit the bill. I didn’t even know anyone when I got here so when I landed in Heathrow I had a bit of an ‘oh shit’ moment when I realised I had nowhere to live even. So I just got on Craigslist straight away – like the worst kind of cliché you could imagine, I could have been fuckin’ killed – and that’s how I met Liam.’

‘And Liam is your … ?’

‘My room-mate, sorry, I thought I’d mentioned him already. Nice lad, from up the country somewhere, he was kind of the same as me in that he just sort of moved here with no plan. It worked out a bit better for him though, he’s got some big job in – shit, he’s literally explained this about twelve times and I’m still not sure what he does – something in computers maybe? Or like, finance on computers? But yeah. And then I suppose I wandered in here one day and the rest is history.’ He grins.

‘What did your family think? And your, um, girlfriend or whatever?’ Zayn looks carefully at a spot on the wall slightly to Niall’s left while asking this last part.

‘My dad thought it was a great idea. My mom, I’d say she expected me to come running back within three days with my tail between my legs, but she at least pretended she thought I could do it. You know what parents are like, they think they’re being all stealth but like, I’ve known you my entire life, I know what you look like when you’re lying. My brother – actually my brother was dead against it at first, said I was just running away and not facing up to real life and blah blah blah, but I’d say it was all bullshit cos once he had a talk with his wife, he ended up helping me pack and driving me to the airport. And uh, my girlfriend, well I didn’t – don’t – have a girlfriend. Not. You know. Not really my thing.’ He clears his throat and files furiously. Zayn’s stomach clenches and then drops very suddenly.

He tries to stay casual. ‘Oh really? Yeah, me either. Girlfriends I mean. Not being my thing.’

‘But you and Louis? You’re, y’know – ‘

‘Friends! Just friends, best friends actually, not like, just friends, but I mean, not more than friends. We’ve known each other for ever, we went to school together. I lived with his family for the year before we went to Uni, there was some – stuff, at home, it was just a bit, um, messy and I-I couldn’t stay. There.’ He blinks rapidly and stops talking.

A silence descends. Niall looks like he doesn’t know what to say (which is a first, Zayn has never met anyone who talks as frequently or with such velocity). Zayn is concentrating on making his hands stop shaking.

Louis chooses that moment to stride out of the office, obviously having finished his hugely important whatever. ‘Hey, so Tropical Fish Tank are playing down at the Potted Ficus tonight, and we need to go because their singer guy – what’s his name, with the fucking mutton chops – keeps trying to get me to sell their album, and I want to see if they are totally irredeemably shit or just mildly to moderately shit. You’re coming, yeah?’

Both Niall and Zayn answer ‘Yes’. Louis looks surprised.

‘Oh, I was actually just asking Zayn.’ Zayn shoots him a sharp look. ‘But, uh, if you’re interested, I mean it’s a public gig, you don’t need my permission or whatever. You’ll probably be pretty bored though, they don’t do Journey covers or like choreography. I know that’s more your thing.’

Niall huffs out a laugh. ‘Well, with that glowing invitation, how could I resist? I might ask Liam too, be good to get him away from the computer for a bit.’

‘Alright, well, Zayn’ll text you the details then.’ Louis claps and rubs his hands. ‘Anyway boys, not that this isn’t a wonderfully diverting way to spend my day, but I’m off. No need for the three of us here, and it is my shop, so I’m taking the time off. See you tonight.’ And with that he’s gone.

Niall shakes his head, but doesn’t actually say anything. Zayn is grateful – he doesn’t like having to defend his oldest friend from the Irish boy’s criticism. Partially because he finds himself agreeing with about 70% of it.

The shop falls quiet once more, aside from the music in the background.

_‘You gotta lot of nerve_  
 _To say you got a helping hand to lend_  
 _You just want to be on_  
 _The side that’s winning’_


	4. Four

Zayn and Niall leave straight from the shop for the gig. Niall rings Liam along the way and – after much ‘ah, go on’ and ‘it’ll be class’ and ‘it’s good to speak to at least one real person per day, Liam’ – he eventually convinces him to come too. They’re walking in silence once again, when Niall looks down at himself and stops suddenly.

‘Oh shit.’

‘What?’

‘My clothes. I’m just wearing my normal clothes from work, I’m gonna look like an idiot.’ He’s sporting light blue jeans and a Leinster rugby jersey, together with a bright red snapback.

‘Well, I’m in the same boat, these are my work clothes too.’

Niall scoffs. ‘Yeah, but your work clothes consist of leather and black and giant boots. You look like you just stepped off a catwalk or a Glastonbury stage, and I look like I’m literally fresh off the plane from Culchie-ville. Which, I mean, I am, but I don’t want to look like that in front of all your friends and – oh God, they’re not all like Louis are they? Jesus, they’re going to hate me.’

Zayn laughs and Niall immediately looks even more miserable. ‘No, stop, don’t look at me like that, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just – you’re cute when you’re panicking. Alright, relax, you look fine, they’re not all my friends, and no, they’re not all like Louis. I would not be standing in front of you if they were, I would be in jail for multiple homicide. This is going to be an incredibly pretentious gig by a shitty local band – for fuck’s sake, they’re called Tropical Fish Tank, they are obviously not going places – and they’re going to be wearing stupid fucking hats and drinking some kind of almond liqueur and there will be about 15 people in the crowd. It’s fine. It’s – why are you laughing?’

‘Sorry, it’s just, I’ve never heard you talk that much before. I didn’t know you were funny. You’re funny! Did you know you were funny?’ They smile at each other, and Zayn shrugs in a kind of don’t-ask-me gesture. ‘Alright, c’mon, my little sartorial shit attack is gonna make us late.’

It turns out Zayn’s summation was pretty much on the button. The band are wearing stupid fucking hats for their sound check, the crowd is tiny and less-than-enthused, and ‘- that looks more like cinnamon liqueur to me, mate, what you reckon?’ Niall whispers in Zayn’s ear as they walk in the door. ‘Ah, Liam, you’re here! Liam, this is Zayn, Zayn this is – stop fucking giggling Zayn, this is a serious artistic production – this is Liam.’

‘Alright Zayn, nice to meet you. Niall’s been speaking about you so much, I was expecting some kind of Hell’s Angel slash Dave Grohl lookalike, but you look like a mostly real person.’ He grins and they shake hands.

‘I do not talk about him that much! Jesus Christ Liam, make me sound like a psycho why don’t you, as if you would even recognise a real person if you saw one. Right, who wants a drink? Beer, Liam? Zayn, something almond-y I presume?’

Zayn smiles again and shakes his head. ‘Just a beer for a start. I’ll take a stout if they have it.’

‘Of course you will, you’re not really a guy for a pint of Bud, are you?’

A shout comes from just behind Zayn’s ear. ‘Bud? What idiot is drinking that shit? I don’t think they even carry that piss-water here.’ Louis bounds up, clearly in his element. ‘Oh Niall, of course, I should have known. And who’s this then? I know you’re positively in love with Justin Timberlake, Ni, but it’s probably a little much to carry his doppelganger around with you.’ He laughs loudly at his own joke, and strides off before anyone can reply. Liam looks slightly dazed.

‘Who was that _absolute fucki-_ ‘

‘That’s Zayn’s friend Louis, he owns the record shop.’ A darkly significant look passes between the room-mates. They say no more, but Zayn is once again left with the feeling that he should step in and defend Louis, if he could only think of an excuse for his behaviour. Niall leaves to get the drinks, and Zayn is left alone with Liam. Zayn recognises the band’s warm up song as, bizarrely enough, a slow guitar laden version of Beyonce’s ‘Freakum Dress’.

‘ _My girls are so real,_

_Said it’s been a minute since I had some,_

_He’s been acting up, but he won’t be the only one.’_

‘So, um, Niall tells me you’ve got a bunch of tattoos? I’ve got a bit of ink myself actually, here, look,’ Liam rolls up his sleeve to show off four blocky arrows on his forearm, and a feather on the other side.

‘Aw sick, they look great man. Yeah, I’ve got a few actually, kind of working my way up to a sleeve eventually.’ He points out some of his favourites. Liam is particularly impressed by the ‘Zap!’ on his arm, and once Zayn mentions his love for comic books, they’re away, debating the merits of vintage, camp Batman versus the new, edgy model. They’ve both just agreed it’s a travesty that Wonder Woman hasn’t got her own movie yet, when Zayn spots Harry in a truly spectacularly ridiculous hat.

‘Harry! Over here!’

‘Ah, Mr Malik! How are we this fine evening? And hello to you too, sir, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure?’

‘Oh sorry, Harry, this is Liam. He’s Niall’s room-mate. You remember Niall, the poor boy I had to call down to the shop at arse o’clock on a Sunday because someone needed rescuing out of Shoreditch?’ The two shake hands.

‘You know, now you mention it, I do have a vague recollection. I’m sure he was only too happy to oblige, who could resist that face, eh?’ Harry chuckles, and then leans in towards Zayn’s ear. ‘Speaking of that night, will you be – er – partaking again tonight? Marcus has got me some lovely stuff, nice price too. What do we think?’

‘Um. No, I- not right now, alright.’ Zayn is very aware of Liam, who is pretending to be watching the crowd, but is still very much within earshot.

‘Oh, go on, it’s been an age. You know you want to.’

‘Leave it Harry, yeah?’

Harry holds up his hands in a placating gesture. ‘Hey, suit yourself. If you change your mind …’ And with that he wanders away, and is immediately flagged down by a group by the door.

Zayn chances a half-glance at Liam, and clears his throat slightly awkwardly. ‘I, uh, I’m going to the bathroom.’

Niall arrives back from the bar a minute later, hands full. ‘What happened to Zayn?’

Liam takes his pint and has a long, time-wasting pull from it. When he surfaces, Niall is still looking expectantly at him. He shuffles a little in his place. ‘So I just met Harry.’

‘Oh yeah? What’s he like? I know he’s friends with Zayn, never actually met the lad.’

‘He seems, um, fine. Very much the kind of guy you’d expect at something like this.’ Liam waves his hands in a vague sweep around the room. ‘He – eh, has Zayn told you how they know each other?’

Niall frowns faintly. ‘No. I mean, I think they’re just buds like.’

‘Right well, from what I just heard, it kind of sounds like maybe Harry is- that he’s, eh – I think he might be Zayn’s dealer.’ Liam dives once again into his drink. His head is already feeling a bit swimmy.

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. And Zayn kind of told him to piss off without telling him to piss off, and then he basically ran to the bathroom.’ Liam looks a bit sideways at Niall. ‘So I take it you didn’t know about – that? Then?’

Niall shakes his head slowly. ‘I mean – I suppose, if I thought about it, I guess he fits the look for it, doesn’t he? I just – never thought about it. I only see him during the day, it’s not like he’s been shooting up at work. Which, I mean, if he did, none of my business after all, he can do whatever he likes, no judgement here.’ He gives a slightly dry laugh. ‘God, could I sound like more of an innocent country lad? I mean, London right? Big city, bright lights, all that? And sure, the first time he asked me to work it was so he could go get Harry out of trouble, I obviously should have realised it was this kind of trouble. Shouldn’t I?’

Liam shrugs in what he hopes is a fairly neutral way. ‘Don’t ask me mate. I don’t think I would have thought of it, but I’m not exactly a city bloke either am I?’ He gives a small smile, and bumps Niall with his shoulder. ‘I don’t think either of us are cool enough for this place, what you reckon?’

Niall bumps him back, and they stand in what feels like a contemplative silence until the lights go down and the band starts up. Zayn still hasn’t reappeared – but that’s hardly surprising, he obviously knows more people here than just them, and it’s not like Niall needs a chaperone for the night. Niall still has Zayn’s pint. It’s looking a bit deflated, not to mention warm, but it was one of those expensive crafty ones that Niall had thought would suit Zayn, and he’s not throwing away seven pounds just like that, so he decides to drink it himself. It’s dark and treacly with slightly sour bite to it – Niall ignores any double meaning there. He suddenly thinks he needs to throw himself into this night, or he’ll end up leaving at about half ten.

Four rounds later, plus shots, both he and Liam are feeling much less out of place. Liam is dancing along enthusiastically to a slow, mournful ballad, doing his best to join in with the chorus in spite of the poisonous looks he’s getting from the little knot of groupies right in front of them. Niall is concentrating on standing upright, and hopefully not vomiting. Zayn’s posh stout shite has gone straight to his head. He can normally drink anyone under the table, no bother, but – in a critical miscalculation – he’d skipped dinner today. This seems wildly out of character, even in his befuddled state, until he remembers that he’d just been about to take his break when Zayn asked for a hand with some inventory (Folk Synth something something, all of Louis’ invented genre titles were starting to blend into one at this point) and they’d been so busy talking that he’d totally forgotten about food. This realisation, more than anything else, startles Niall into action.

‘M’gonna find Zayn,’ he shouts into Liam’s ear, probably louder than necessary, although Liam still doesn’t seem to have heard. He bats at him ineffectually, and wanders off.

Niall’s not sure if it’s just because the lights are off, and of course he is horribly drunk, but the room seems way more crowded than it had on his last run to the bar. He stumbles along, aiming vaguely for where he thinks the smoking area might be. Eventually he pushes through a door, where the immediate pungent sting in the air tells him he’s in the right place. As he knew he would, he spots Zayn in the corner, talking to someone in a terrible shirt and an even worse hat. He walks over.

‘Zayn! Zayn, I need to talk t’you.’ Zayn looks up at him, and Niall isn’t sure, but he thinks he looks a bit cross. ‘Are you cross Zayn? You look a bit cross. Who’re you?’

‘Oh, Niall. No, no I’m – oh this is Harry, he’s, you know, you-you remember right? I’m not, I don’t-‘ He cuts off as Niall pushes past Harry’s outstretched hand and plants himself between them, facing Zayn.

‘I-I want to – no, I _need_ to talk t’you. Not him. Only you. We – there’s stuff, we should, things, to say.’ Zayn looks a little concerned, and waves Harry away. He pulls Niall by the elbow, moving them further into the corner.

‘Ok. Ok Niall, we can talk, what do you want to talk about?’ Zayn says slowly. He licks his lower lip, and Niall forgets to answer him. ‘Niall?’

‘Yeah. I wanted to, to talk to you – not, not him, I want to talk to you. He’s – you’re – I didn’t know you were cool. Why didn’t you tell me you were cool?’

‘What are you talking about? What do mean I’m cool?’

‘Liam, Liam said you were talking to Harry, and he was – you were going to, like do stuff. Like, take stuff,’ he adds, looking meaningfully at the other boy. It takes a moment, and then Zayn frowns.

‘Listen, Niall, I don’t know what Liam thinks he heard-‘ Niall scoffs and starts to protest, so Zayn goes on, ‘no alright, sometimes I do – do stuff. Not tonight, but sometimes. What – is that a problem?’ He jerks his chin up and folds his arms, seemingly unconsciously.

‘S’not a problem for you, maybe,’ Niall prods his chest, ‘but s’a problem for me isn’t it? Means, means you’re too, too cool for me, and – and you don’t – you’ll never want – ‘ he gestures between the two of them and peers at Zayn intently. ‘Cos like, I’m not cool. I don’t wanna be cool, drugs are – are bad for, like, your organs or something, but it’s just,’ he sighs, frustrated that Zayn isn’t getting it. ‘I like you, Zayn. Yeah?’

Zayn looks at him for a long moment. He replies slowly. ‘I – I like you too Niall. I’m really glad you’re working with us. I think maybe you’ve had a bit to drink so I don’t really know what you’re saying, but I want you to understand that what I do with my other friends in my own time has nothing to do with you. Ok?’

‘I _know,_ I know that Zayn, it’s just – I wasn’t expecting it. And it’s, like, a let down, I think.’ Niall screws up his eyes and rubs them fiercely with the heels of his hands. ‘I, I don’t know. M’gonna go home I think. I – never mind, it’s not, I shouldn’t have – I’m going home.’ He turns on the spot and vanishes into the swell as suddenly as he’d appeared.

Zayn sits where Niall left him. He doesn’t move until the band are finished, the lights have come back on, and the bouncers tell him everyone else is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk talking is fun to write. Sorry for making Harry such a dick.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise for the enormous lengths of time between updates, this is basically acting as my stress relief from college so it's only when I have spare time that I can write it. As I said at the start, I do know where it's going, it's just going to take some time to get there!

Niall stirs in bed the next morning, his mouth feeling as though it’s been carpeted overnight. He lays still for a few moments, hands over his eyes, trying to gather himself before he gets up. It had obviously been a late one, but apart from the band’s truly impressive lack of talent, he realises he can’t remember much. Niall has found that’s usually a bad sign.

When he eventually stumbles into the kitchen, the first thing he sees is Liam sitting at the table, with Sophia in his lap feeding him toast. He groans loudly to announce his presence.

‘Ah Jesus, lads, stop. It’s too early for that bullshit.’

‘And good morning to you too, sunshine. You’re feeling totally refreshed and ready to tackle the day, I take it?’

‘Of course he is Liam, how could he be otherwise? And Niall, babe, it’s past noon, so we are completely within our rights to be as disgusting as we want as per _your_ own rule.’ Sophia smiles winningly at him, before turning and launching herself at Liam. The slurping sounds very nearly push Niall over the edge.

‘Right, that’s it.’ He turns and makes to leave the room. Liam takes pity.

‘No, no, come back, we’ll stop, we promise. Don’t we?’ He raises his eyebrows to Sophia, who sighs.

‘Yes, we promise. What’s up darling? How was last night?’

Niall narrows his eyes at the two of them, to let them know they’re not forgiven, before he deigns to answer. ‘Don’t really know, do I? Can’t remember half of it.’

Liam coughs. ‘Oh, don’t you? Um, which – which half?’ He does his best to sound casual, but Niall sees right through it.

‘Oh God. What? What happened? What did I do?’

‘Eh, well, this is just the garbled version I got off you in the taxi home, but you sort of – freaked out about Zayn, remember? And Harry? And – and the,’ he mouths the word, ‘drugs?’

‘Oh no. Oh God.’

‘And then I think you went off to find him, and kind of, told him you thought he was cool – you said the word cool a lot - but that you were – eh – disappointed in him, I think is the word you used.’

Niall sags onto the couch, his head in his hands. ‘Fucking. Shit. Oh my God, this is – oh no. Why am I such a prick? Why? What the hell is wrong with me?’ His head suddenly snaps up and he stares accusingly at Liam. ‘What the hell is wrong with _you_? You had just as much to drink as me, how come your mind is so fucking crystal clear?’

‘Liam is one of those awful people who remembers _everything_ about the night before. It is an absolute curse, and I’ve suffered from it many times before, so you have my sympathies Niall.’ Liam is indignant.

‘Calling it a curse is a bit strong babe, don’t you think? It’s not my fault you make tits of yourselves, is it? And surely it’s better to know about it anyway?’

Sophia looks pointedly at the couch, where Niall is now rocking back and forth and muttering to himself. ‘Does that look better to you?’

She moves over to sit next to Niall, and starts rubbing his back up and down. ‘Come on, love, it’s alright, it’s not that bad. We’ll figure it out. Won’t we? What can we do? Do you want some breakfast?’ Niall squeaks, which she takes as a yes. ‘Liam, make Niall some breakfast.’

Liam sputters, but stands up and gets the eggs out of the fridge.

‘Now, Nially, my love, we’re going to talk this through, and we’re going to figure it out, alright? Alright. So, first of all, what do you remember about last night?’

Niall sniffs, and screws up his face in concentration. ‘I – I remember getting there, and I remember buying the first round. And then – oh and then Liam told me he’d just seen Harry and about the whole, you know, thing. Yeah. And I remember shots. And another round. And after that – not much. Oh but my room absolutely stinks of smoke, so I think I was in the smoking room at some stage and that must be where I talked to – ahem.’

‘Ok, so you only really started drinking after Liam met Harry?’

‘Yeah, I suppose so. I just – I didn’t mean to, but I just felt so weird about the whole thing, and I just wanted to, like, not feel that way.’

‘Why did you feel so weird about it babe?’

‘I don’t know, this is the thing, I have no clue why it threw me like that. It’s not like – I mean, I _know_ people take drugs and whatever, and it’s fine usually, like my cousin at home used to smoke a bit from time to time and it never bothered me at all. I mean, I never did, but that’s grand, it’s not like, I’m not _judgemental_ normally, I don’t think. It’s just, I don’t know, I don’t think I expected it from – him.’

‘Ok, good, that’s good.’

‘Like, ok, you don’t know him, and I mean I don’t even know him that well myself, but he could – he could do literally anything he wanted to do. He’s brilliant. He’s so, so clever, and people like him, but he’s quiet so maybe it takes, like, time to get to like him. And maybe people think he’s kind of rude, because he doesn’t really talk, but like, he spends all his time with fucking Louis, so it’s not as though he gets a whole pile of chances to say fuckin anything – but when he does, then you realise, like jesus, this guy is amazing. Like we could be in the shop, just stocking or whatever, and I’ll be rambling away about whatever stupid thing is in my head, and he’ll just say something, one sentence, but it’s a perfect thought and it makes you look at everything in a totally new way. I’ve never known anyone like that before. He’s – he’s _sharp_ I think is the word I want, he looks at me sometimes and I feel like he knows everything I’m thinking and everything I – just, everything I am. If that doesn’t sound completely ridiculous.’ He looks at Sophia, helpless. She looks back for a second, before getting up, calmly walking over to Liam and smacking the back of his head.

‘ _Ow!_ I – _Jesus,_ that hurt, what the hell was that for? That fucking stung!’

‘You never said he was in love with him, you idiot! Told me all about his fucking comic books, and not a word that Niall was head over heels for him – what, did it not seem worth mentioning?’

‘What – what are you talking about?’ Liam looks at her, bewildered, rubbing his head still. When she turns, she sees the expression mirrored in Niall’s face.

‘Oh for – fucking _boys_ , I swear, how you _ever_ get things done, how you ever get out of _bed_ in the morning without fucking wandering around and banging into walls – ‘ Sophia takes a deep, calming breath. She returns the couch and carefully lowers herself down next to Niall.

‘Niall. Babe. You’re in love with him.’

Niall stares at her, his jaw hanging. ‘With – with who?’

‘Oh my god – with Zayn. You’re in love with Zayn. Are you honestly telling me you didn’t know this already?’

Niall shuts his mouth with a snap, and looks between the other two, half a smile on his face. ‘Um, no. Because – because I’m not? In love with him? Or – or anyone? What the hell are you on about?’ he starts to chuckle, and Liam joins in. He comes over to where the other two are sitting, bearing an enormous plate piled high with scrambled eggs. Niall moans and digs in gratefully.

‘Soph, love, don’t you think he’d know if he was in love with someone? You’ve never even met Zayn, or seen them together, you can’t be so sure as all that.’ The boys continue to laugh, louder now, like they’ve never heard anything funnier.

Sophia’s eyes narrow dangerously for a moment, before she throws up her hands and evidently gives them up as a bad job. ‘Fine! Fine, laugh it up. Mark my words, you love that boy, and _that_ is why you were so upset to see him like that, and to see the kind of people he’s friends with, and that is _also_ why you think the sun shines out his arse, and you may not believe me now, but you will, and then _I_ will be the one laughing. Just wait!’ With that she flounces out of the room, leaving the lads in stitches behind her. A few moments pass, and then they hear music drifting out the half open door;

_‘When I’m gone,_

_When I’m gone,_

_You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone._

_You’re gonna miss me by my hair,_

_You’re gonna miss me everywhere,_

_Oh, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.’_

Maybe it’s the hangover, maybe it’s the incredibly melodramatic song choice, but it takes them a solid ten minutes to stop rolling around in their seats, almost crying with laughter. Every time one of them starts to regain composure, they only have to catch the other’s eye and they’re off again. Eventually Niall stands up, holding his stomach and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘Jesus, ok. God I needed that. Alright, I suppose I’d better do some damage control. I’m gonna go find Zayn and apologise for being a dick, but not’ – he raises his voice slightly – ‘not because I’m _in love_ with him, but because I’m a grown-up who knows how to apologise when I’m wrong.’ He waits a moment, and is rewarded with an indignant snort from the direction of Liam’s room.


	6. Six

After a shower and another two helpings of Liam’s eggs, Niall feels slightly more ready to face the day, and more importantly, to face Zayn. He stands in front of the mirror by the door for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and also making sure his hair isn’t doing that weird flat thing. He somehow feels he should look his best for this.

So Niall heads out to find Zayn. And say – something. Anything. Hopefully words, English would be good. A full sentence, perhaps? If he can remember both of their names, he figures he’ll be doing well. Niall knows how his hungover brain works, and he also knows that even his entirely sober brain is still not big on Serious Talking, so he tries to trick himself by not looking directly at the big scary conversation. Instead he sets himself a couple of smaller tasks to focus on. So, ok. First thing – figure out where Zayn may be of a Saturday morning.

Obvious answer is, of course, the shop, but there’s an excellent chance he’d be there with Louis and Niall just can’t really handle that right now. Zayn is different around his oldest friend – Niall hasn’t quite pinpointed it yet, but he knows instinctively that if he were to try and apologise while Louis was there – even if by some miracle he had convinced him to wait in the other room – Zayn would laugh it off and say it was all fine and not to worry and then they wouldn’t really be the same kind of friends anymore. And Niall doesn’t want that. He’s had a glimpse of the nice kind of life he could have stumbled into here, with a great place to live and a weird job and people around him that he actually likes, and he’s not willing to let Drunk Niall fuck that up for him. So alright – not the shop.

Where though, if not the shop? Zayn’s flat? Which he shares with Louis? No, thank you. Maybe the park by their place? Something of a shot in the dark. Then Niall catches a trace of cigarette smoke from an open window on floor up off the street, and a thought flickers in the back of his mind. It was Zayn, something he’d said weeks ago, about when he’s been drinking and all he ever wants in the morning afterwards is a fag and a coffee from that poky hipster joint in the East End, _Tribes_ or _Vibes_ or something. Task number one; check.

Task number two; figure out what to say. Probably not as easy to check. Niall thinks it’s best to be natural with these things. To not over-think. Right.

Right?

The pungent waft of dark roast hits Niall full in the face as he walks through the beaded curtain taking the place of the coffee shop door. It’s a little much for his delicate sensibilities at present, so he’s still recovering when he literally runs into Zayn. They both stumble back before they recognise each other. Niall feels that deep heat in his cheeks which means he’s not quite blushing yet but he soon will be. Zayn, obviously, looks flawless, to a degree that Niall is actually finding difficult to process in his current state.

‘Um, hey. Sorry.’

‘Hey. What’re you – did Louis tell you I was here? Or … you’re hardly just here coincidentally? It’s not a massively popular spot.’

‘No, no, I just, you mentioned it a couple of weeks ago, and I just thought I’d give it a look. It’s, uh, cool.’ Niall mentally cringes, both at his own stupidity and the now curious look on Zayn’s face. ‘So, listen, I actually do want to talk to you though. Can we-can we step outside for a second?’

Zayn follows him out into the quiet alley. The fresh air helps to clear Niall’s brain slightly. He scratches the back of his neck, to conceal his sweaty palms, and stares intently at the bins just behind Zayn.

‘I came to apologise, actually. For last night, like. I’m not a hundred per cent sure what I actually said, but I know what I’m like on nights like that, and Liam kind of gave me an idea, and just, it was totally ridiculous, and I’m sorry.’ He forces himself to look into Zayn’s eyes. They’re doing that crinkly thing, and he’s biting his bottom lip, neither of which are helping much with the concentration.

‘That’s alright, man,’ Zayn replies slowly. ‘It was – kind of a weird night in general, I think.’ Niall latches onto that gratefully.

‘Yeah, yeah no definitely, I thought so too, it was probably the band, do you think? They were complete shite, if I go back to the shop and see their record there, I actually will throw a fit.’ He’s smiling, but then he realises what he just said. ‘I mean, y’know, if I come back to the shop. If I can come back to the shop.’ He looks quickly at his shoes.

Zayn laughs, clapping a hand to his shoulder and squeezing gently. ‘Of course you can come back to the shop. We all do dumb shit when we’re fucked up, right?’ Niall meets his eye, now laughing too.

‘I cannot believe you are quoting _The Hangover_ at me right now. Everyone thinks you’re all punk and cool and all that shite, and then you go and do something like to remind me that you’re actually a giant fuckin eejit.’ He slings his arm around the other boy’s shoulders. ‘So we’re alright, yeah?’

‘We’re alright, man, yeah, of course. What would I do without my best shelf-stocker? And that was an entirely original quote, I’ll have you know.’

‘Your best shelf-stocker? Jesus Christ, you sound like Louis.’ Zayn spins away, singing.

‘ _Wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up,_

_Without having talked a load of shite?_

_Wouldn’t it be nice to hold your drink in,_

_Like you’d think a lad from Ireland might?’_

Niall tells him to fuck off, but it probably loses something with the way he’s doubled over laughing.


	7. Seven

Zayn continues to sing the whole way back to the shop. He tells Niall he has the afternoon shift, because Louis has a date and is being an absolute dickhead about it, insisting he needs the whole evening to prepare for dinner at 8. Niall desperately wants to make a quip here about how Louis would need more than a few hours to make himself attractive to any potential mates, but he figures he’s only just got back on good terms with Zayn, so maybe now’s not the time. He settles instead for nettling Zayn about his singing.

‘Ah really now, though, have you never thought of music in a kind of real way?’

‘What does that even mean? What’s a real way?’

‘D’you know, in a career kind of way? Or even just, I dunno, putting on a few gigs or something?’

‘Shut up.’

‘I will not shut up!’ Niall replies, with a chuckle in his voice. ‘Zayn, you have an unbelievable voice!’

‘How would you even know what kind of voice I have? This is literally the first time you’ve heard me sing!’ He takes a Marlboro box from an inside pocket and shakes out a cigarette.

‘Yeah, exactly, why is that actually? I’ve not heard so much as a hum from you all the time we’ve been together in the shop, and suddenly here you are composing rhymes on the street. You’re really fucking good.’

‘Stop it, no I’m not,’ he mutters around the butt between his lips. ‘And yes you have heard me in the shop. I sing along, sometimes.’

‘I’ve literally never heard you.’

‘Well, whatever, we don’t play the kind of stuff you can sing along to.’ He inhales deeply, and blows a long stream of smoke towards the sky. Niall tracks it with his eyes.

‘Like that’s ever stopped me! I’m constantly jamming out to whatever’s on the playlist!’

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed. So have customers, I’m pretty sure, or should I say, now ex-customers.’

Niall rolls his eyes. ‘Alright fine, go on, deflect my questions with your terrible jokes. I’ll just ask Louis about it.’

Zayn’s head snaps up. ‘Don’t.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t ask Louis. Don’t mention my singing to Louis. Ever.’ He’s come to a dead stop right there on the foot path. He’s almost crushing the cigarette between his fingers, and he’s staring at Niall with a kind of ferocity the Irish boy has never before seen in him. ‘Do not. Say anything.’

Niall is staring slack-jawed. He closes his mouth with a snap, and holds up his hands in a universal calm-the-fuck-down gesture. ‘Whoa, ok. I won’t say anything to Louis, ever.’ When Zayn continues to stare at him, he goes on, ‘can you stop looking at me like you’re contemplating where to hide my body, please? I said I won’t say anything, and I won’t. Chill.’

Zayn exhales, shakily, and releases his hands. They’re trembling. Niall sees a clump of ash drop to the ground. He slowly walks on again. There’s a split second when he doesn’t think Zayn will follow him, until he hears a sigh and then the smack of heavy boots coming behind.

Niall allows the silence to settle around them for the space of a couple of streets. Zayn finishes his smoke and lights another. When that’s down to a stub too, he finally looks up.

‘So Liam seems really cool.’ There’s a forced calm in his voice that Niall appreciates.

‘Oh he’s an absolute legend, hundred per cent the nicest guy I’ve ever met. His girlfriend is lovely as well.’

‘You never mentioned he was into comic books, we’d a big talk about it last night.’

‘Yeah, he’s obsessed, it’s a bit ridiculous. It’s weird actually, cos everything else about him is so grown up, he’s got this big job in the City, and he and Sophia have been going out with years, he just has everything sorted out, but then he has one thing where he’s basically a big kid, it’s kinda cute really.’

‘Whereas for me, comic books are just another item on the long list of man-child tendencies, is it?’ Zayn is half smirking now, the tip of his tongue poking out the side of his mouth.

Niall nods seriously. ‘Yes, absolutely. You are positively adolescent, it’s embarrassing really.’ Zayn punches his arm half-heartedly. ‘No but, I dunno, it’s nice he has that one thing, I think. He had a bit of a shit time of it growing up. Didn’t have much of a chance to be a kid when he actually was one.’

‘How do you mean? If, y’know, you feel ok talking about it, I don’t want to be nosey or whatever -‘

‘No, hey, I brought it up, and he never has a problem talking about it. And like obviously I don’t have the whole story, but I think his parents were a bit awful? Not, like, abuse awful, but they just never supported him, or never thought he could do the things he wanted to do. He’s the baby of the family, and he’s the first one to go to Uni, or even to leave his hometown, and I think they sort of resent him for it. He’s so clever, and he loved school, bit of a nerd really and didn’t have a whole pile of friends, and he says his dad used to basically make fun of him for it, saying he was a bookish weirdo and he should outside with all the normal boys, not studying on his own in his room.’ Niall’s not smiling anymore.

‘Jesus, that’s fucking tough.’ Zayn doesn’t dare look at Niall’s face. ‘He did it though. Got out. Got successful. How did he not let it get to him?’

Niall shrugs. ‘That’s just Liam, isn’t it? Like, he knew it was the right thing for him, he knew he was good at it and he could do it if he really worked, so like yeah, it was hard as fuck, but it worked out, didn’t it?’

‘You’d never think it, to talk to him. He seems so happy.’

‘He is happy. He is. He’s got a lot going for him, y’know? I think he had a bit of a show down with his mam and dad a few years ago, sort of let them know how shit they were and that everything he has now, he has in spite of them, not because of them. They didn’t take it too well. He doesn’t really talk to them at all anymore.’

‘But, I mean, they’re his family. How do you just ignore them?’ Zayn asks. It sounds desperate even to his own ears.

Niall glances sideways, his brow furrowed. ‘They don’t deserve his time, just by virtue of being his family. They should have pulled with him, they should have worked for him, he’s not obliged to keep giving them chances because they’re blood, or because they’ve known him his whole life. There’s more to it than that.’

They’ve reached the shop. Zayn doesn’t answer, just pushes through the door with his mouth set in a tight line.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been literally forever. I can only apologise.

Zayn ignores it, at first. The niggle. The tug behind his navel. The spark at the back of his mind, almost frightening in its willingness to ignite, even now, even after so long. He shouldn’t be shocked really, he thinks in some dry, detached part of his brain, he shouldn’t be surprised at this internal pull. He knew, always, that it was an effort to keep it tamped down. It never came naturally.

And of course it’s Niall’s fault, anyway. Planted the seed, didn’t he? If Zayn’s feeling generous, he’ll say that it was unintentional, but he doesn’t believe that. Not really. Zayn suspects Niall hides some genuine cunning behind his bluster and his banter and his, “oh, sure I’m only an innocent Irish lad after crossing the water to the big smoke to make my fortune” routine.

He sees the way Niall can engage with punters in the shop, knowing exactly when to sidle up to the lad bobbing his head and suggest three other albums he absolutely has to hear before he even _considers_ listening to the one in his hand, or the precise moment the lady flicking through magazines realises it’s a Fleetwood Mac cover playing over the speakers, and well _obviously_ that girl’s no Stevie Nicks, but hey, some of her own stuff is pretty great, would she like to have a listen? And none of it is forced, or calculated, but he just has a knack of knowing what people need, before they know it themselves, sometimes.

So yeah, Zayn’s been thinking about the music thing. The singing. _His_ singing, to be precise. He’s still only edging around it in his mind, as though looking at it directly will cause it to wink out of existence. There are idle moments, while he’s cooking lunch, or walking home from the shop, and a scrap of melody will come to him, and before he realises, he’s got a hook and a harmony and his hand is slapping a beat against his thigh. He’ll belt it out with Marvin Gaye or Jerry Lee Lewis when he’s alone, stocking shelves, always listening out in case there’s someone around, but always (and he won’t admit this to himself, because the implications are simply too scary for a Thursday afternoon) almost guiltily hoping he gets caught, some day. That part makes him laugh at his own stupidity – what, is he hoping some recording mogul will just happen to wander past, hear him, pluck him out from the masses, and set him on the road to celebrity? “This kid, you gotta hear him! He’s a star, I tell ya, a star!” It’s almost embarrassing. You’d think, by now, Zayn’d have a better clue of how the world works. How his world works.

&&&

Zayn’s drunk, and he’s twirling. He’s not alone – Niall is twirling too, and Louis was twirling, before he decided it was more fun to watch the room spin while he _wasn’t_ moving. Zayn has his eyes closed, and he can see the coloured lights flashing through his eyelids, and the floor feels like it’s jumping with the bass, and his veins are humming. His shoulder knocks against something solid as he turns, and next thing he knows, his arms are full of Niall. Zayn is fully supporting his weight, as Niall sags into him with his head thrown back and his entire body vibrating with laughter. His head suddenly snaps up. He looks Zayn straight in the eye and gives a wordless screech of excitement. His eyes are so bright. Zayn thinks that probably if they turned off all the lights, Niall could just lead everyone around with just his eyes. Like headlights. Eye-lights. Head-eye-lights. Zayn crinkles his brow, and then bursts into giggles at the thought of Niall at the head of a conga line with two rays of light pointing ahead of him like search beams.

They are out to celebrate an entire week of taking in more money than they spent, an incredibly rare achievement. It had started as quiet pints in the pub, as it always does, and next minute, it seemed to Zayn, they were in a nameless club in town, absolutely smashed off their faces. It was brilliant.

The DJ flicks suddenly to the next song, and Florence + the Machine floods out from the speakers. Niall perks up and looks wildly around to locate Zayn. He puts his hands either side of Zayn’s face, pushes their foreheads together and screws his eyes shut, screaming the lyrics.

_“And I never wanted anything from you,_

_Except everything you had,_

_And what was left after that too,_

_Oh,_

_Happiness …”_

And as the beat picks up he spins away again, the moment over as rapidly as it had begun. Zayn is left reeling, until he mentally shakes himself, throwing an arm around Niall and joining for the chorus.

_“The dog days are over!_

_The dog days are done,_

_Can you hear the horses?_

_Cos here they come …”_

They’re still roaring twenty minutes later as they spill out the door towards the taxi rank, having looped Louis in with them on the way out. The cold air hits Zayn like an electric bolt. Before he knows what he’s doing, he throws his head back and positively belts out the last lines – _“The horses are coming, so you better run!”_ It’s the greatest feeling in the world, and he doesn’t want it to end, so he keeps going even though he’s reached the end of the song, he adds a riff and a run and finishes with a screaming falsetto, holding it until it feels like his lungs might burst.

He finally comes to. The entire alleyway has fallen silent, and both Louis and Niall are staring at him with their mouths gaping. The silence hangs and seems to vibrate, stretching, until a group of girls near the door start applauding. Everyone else joins in, even the bouncers. Niall is whooping and hugging him, Louis is – Louis is missing. He spots the back of his head as he almost runs up the road.

“Lou! Louis! Where you going man, come back, we have to get a taxi! Louis!”

“Fuck off!”

“What? Mate come back, what are you doing?” Zayn’s caught him up. He grabs his arm and gets him to swing around.

“Get the _fuck_ off me!”

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with you? What the fuck was that?” Zayn realises, with a shock that makes him feel stone cold sober, that there are tears in Louis’ eyes.

“It was – it – I don’t know what it was. It was in the moment, it was nothing, I just-“

“That was not fucking nothing! You – this was supposed to be a lads night out, bit of a laugh whatever, and you – you,” Louis scrubs furiously at his face, “you had to make it all about you, didn’t you?”

Zayn gapes. “What the hell are you saying? I did not make it all about me, it was one fucking second, I wasn’t thinking-“

“Oh you weren’t thinking, what a fucking shock, where’ve I heard that before? ‘I didn’t mean it Lou, I didn’t think it were that serious, I just wanted to do it, I weren’t thinking!’ Ring any fucking bells, Malik?” Louis spits angrily on the ground between them. Zayn stares down for a second, before he looks up and launches himself at Louis, tackling him to the ground.

“ _Lads!_ Zayn, what the fuck, get off him, get off – Zayn, you’re gonna get us fucking arrested-“ Niall has finally caught up them. With some difficulty, he drags Zayn off Louis. The two of them spring apart and stand, breathing heavily. Louis stares at Zayn for a beat or two, before turning to look at Niall. “You know what, Niall? Best of fucking luck with him. I’m done.” He turns and walks quickly, almost runs, down the street. Niall grabs Zayn’s jacket to stop him following.

“Maybe best to let him cool off, yeah? Yeah. Alright, I want to know what the fuck that was, but for now you’re coming home with me. Come on, look, I’ve got a taxi here.” Zayn gives one last look at Louis’ retreating figure, before wiping his face and following Niall into the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this was obviously started pre- Zayn leaving (sob) and I sort of didn't know if I wanted to keep going, hence the ridiculous hiatus, but I guess I have enough in me for this much anyway. See can you spot the incredibly subtle reference to real life Zouis drama.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first go at a fic! I basically have the plot worked out but I'm writing as I go along so sorryyyy if it's a bit slow. There will be smut but not for a little while, I gotta work up to it. Let me know what you think!


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